


alcohol is not a friend

by writeforyou



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Drunk Sex, Happy Ending, M/M, Minho Has No Verbal Filter, Morning After, Newt Worries About Things, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:04:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeforyou/pseuds/writeforyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shit,” Newt repeated dumbly.<br/>“…That’s one word for it,” Minho responded.</p>
<p>One Night Stand AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alcohol is not a friend

**Author's Note:**

> for [vera](http://minewt.tumblr.com) because its her birthday!
> 
> it's not exactly angst but there are misunderstandings
> 
> unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own

 

The music was deafening, thumping in his ears, and Newt was too drunk to care. The flashing lights would have been blinding but around midnight, some girl in a hula skirt had slide a pair of bright pink and sparkling glasses onto his face, and a lei around his neck, and everything was almost muted.

“Another one Tommy?” he shouted over the music and slung his arm over Thomas’ shoulders. His friend wasn’t drunk exactly, but he wasn’t sober and cheered at the thought of more drink.

“Good sir,” Newt called across the bar, “Another round of your finest…urgh. Pink drink thing!”

The bartender tipped his head in response and turned towards the cocktail mix. Newt couldn’t remember for the life of him what they were called but he didn’t need to know what they were called to drink them.

“They’re very good,” he promised Minho, who had swayed into him.

“I like pink,” Minho agreed and grinned goofily.

“Maybe you guys should, ya know, cool it with the drinks,” Gally suggested. The man wasn’t much of a drinker, but came along for the fun of it, and had been nursing the same beer for three hours.

“No, that sounds like a bad idea,” Minho responded sternly, if someone so drunk could be stern.

“No, a bad idea is drinking so much you’re sick,” Gally retorted.

Thomas frowned. “I don’t like being sick.”

“I know you don’t baby,” Gally said fondly and his boyfriend of two years nuzzle into the space under his arm.

Minho leant over his shoulder to whisper in his ear, and it didn’t matter that his breath was too hot on his sweat lined skin, or that it stank viciously, because it still made Newt shiver.

“They’re so gross,” he accused with a wrinkled noise.

“Yeah, gross,” Newt agreed.

“They make me want to punch something to feel manly again,” Minho informed him, and then squinted at the dance floor, “we should dance.”

Newt just about got the chance to snag his drink from the table when Minho grasped his hand and tugged him into the mass of bodies.

 

~*~

 

Newt’s head hurt. Like _hurt_. So much. The sun peeked through the crack in the curtains and into his eyes and he whined and turned away from it, only for his head to explode. He could hear Alby’s voice in his head that this was his punishment for being a dumb shank, and he wanted to cry. He forced through the pain to roll over and push his face into his pillow. His hand splayed out across the bed and found skin.

He stilled. He stretched his fingers out just to make sure – and yep that was skin. That was definitely human skin. It was damp to the touch and warm and whoever it was let out a muffled noise of objection at being slapped.

Newt didn’t want to open his eyes for many reasons but now the main one was because he was almost afraid to see who drunk him had decided to bunk with. The last one night stand he had, had been a threesome, and well, he didn’t actually think that Thomas had forgiven him for sleeping with his twin. And her best friend.

He cracked on eye open. Definitely a dude, he concluded and admired the broad shoulders. With only one eye open, the definition was blurry, but he guessed it wasn’t that bad. He blinked his second eye open and his heart clenched in his chest. There was only two people that had those ridiculous maze tattoos: Thomas and-

“Shit,” Newt cursed and took his hand away like it was on fire. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

The figure moaned again and rolled towards Newt. The sheets shifted and fell away, revealing expanses of skin that Newt couldn’t tear his eyes away even if he wanted to. There was a mumble of words that were incoherent to Newt’s ears and then his eyes opened, first veiled in sleep and pain, and then just in shock.

“Shit,” Newt repeated dumbly.

“…That’s one word for it,” Minho responded.

The silence stretched and Newt couldn’t stand it.

“Did we…” he trailed off.

Minho sat up slowly and grimaced. “Well, my arse hurts so either your cock was up there or I fucked myself with a cucumber,” he griped, reaching for the sheets to shield himself (Newt absolutely did not look, nope, not at all).

Usually, Newt might have commented on the crudeness but everything felt numb. Real but not real. Like a dream – or maybe a nightmare that you just couldn’t wake up from. He scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, knotted at the back though it was.

“Shit.”

Minho yawned and scratched his chest. He glanced down at his fingers and flicked the flakes away. “Mind if I take a shower?”

Newt waved his agreement and watched the muscles in his arse as Minho walked in all his glory towards the bathroom.  The door clicked behind him and Newt drew his knees up to his chest to press his forehead onto his knees.

It did nothing to release the pressure that was building up there.

A part of him felt like he was over exaggerating. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. It was Minho. But that’s part of the problem. It was _Minho_.  His close friend Minho. His ‘I’ve known you since middle school’ Minho. The Minho who flirted and laughed and listened and who Newt had been kind of sort of in love with since high school.

That Minho.

He wanted to scream and cry and dance for joy all at the same time, and his head hurt way too much to deal with something that complicated. The shower started and Newt pushed himself up to search for painkillers.

Aspirin makes things better, he told himself.

 

~*~

 

“I slept with Minho.”

There was a thud on the other end of the line, and Newt tapped his fingers impatiently at the sound of movement at the other end before Alby’s voice finally came back.

“Are you serious?”

“Why would I joke about it?”

“But…seriously?”

“Yes seriously,” he groaned, “I woke up and he was there and he started talking about butt hurt-“

“Dude,” Alby interjected his complaint.

Newt ignored him. “-and now he’s in my shower cleaning cum off his stomach, and I don’t know what to do!”

“You could join him and offer to help?” Alby suggested.

Newt pinched the bridge of his nose. “No jokes, please.”

“I’m not joking. Dude, you’ve been in love with the guy for years now. Years. I know more about his powerful thighs and gorgeous arse than I ever wanted to know about my friend.”

“I never spoke about him that much,” Newt argued back weakly.

“It’s cute that you think that’s true,” Alby snorted, “Just, isn’t this what you wanted?”

“It’s not about what I wanted it’s – shit, Minho’s my friend. A good friend. And I-“

“Do you regret it?”

“I regret that I don’t remember it,” Newt admitted. Bits and pieces were coming back – fragmented images of arms, legs, the curve of Minho’s back, heavy breathing and sounds of pleasure in his ear – but it was incomplete and almost like watching clips of a movie from youtube. It just didn’t feel real.

“You should probably tell him that,” Alby advised.

“But it’s Minho,” Newt stressed the name.

“I know, which is why you need to talk to him. None of that avoidance bullshit that you like to do, it will only make it worse.”

Newt was fully prepared to argue that it was procrastination not avoidance, completely different, when the bathroom door clicked open and he squeaked startled. He ended the call before he could even think and shoved the phone under the pillow on his sofa.

Minho took a while to come out, but when he did, he was dressed in last night’s clothes – clothes that Newt could now remember stripping him out of – and towel drying his hair.

“Better?” Newt croaked out.

Minho hummed. “I guess. Although I would feel a lot better if you would stop acting so strange.”

“Strange? Me?” Newt’s laugh was borderline hysterical.

Minho arched an eyebrow. “You’re over thinking this,” he stated.

“How can I not? How are you not?”

He shrugged. “It’s just sex.”

If anything, that was worse than the realisation that they had completely changed their relationship. It winded him and made him wince. His head ached again, but for a completely different reason.

“Sex,” he repeated. “Right, sex. Just.”

“It was good sex,” Minho offered.

Newt laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“What, you didn’t think so? I will take that as an offense to my skills, you know.”

“I’m sure you were magnificent,” he replied dryly, although he had cracked a smile that seemed to make Minho’s shoulders lax just a little bit. “I just…I’m having trouble recalling.”

“Wait, you don’t – so that’s why – I thought,” Minho shook his head and laughed a little, “I mean you told me that you wanted but-“

“Oh god, I told you,” Newt stated aghast.

“Repeatedly,” Minho supplied, which did nothing to curb the embarrassment of his friend.

“Oh god I’m so sorry,” his voice was muffled into his hands.

“Don’t be, I,” Minho cut off and Newt looked at him and, “Oh. You…”

He was answered with a shrug, “I guess so.”

“So you don’t…”

“Regret it? No, not at all. Do…”

“Maybe,” Newt admitted honestly, “I don’t know how I feel right now.”

“Oh. Okay.” Minho nodded, and rocked back on his heels, “Do you want me to…go?”

“You don’t have to,” Newt assured quickly, “I mean, I have food and you never do, and we should probably talk about this properly and try to, I don’t know, come up with a solu-“

The rest of his words were cut off with a kiss. He jerked, surprised by it, but Minho held onto him tightly at his upper arms and he couldn’t move away. Minho had kissed him like this before, Newt realised suddenly. The night before, this was how Minho had kissed him. Slow, deep, open mouthed and wet and desperation that made Newt shake to his very core. He remembered the way that he had panted and tugged at Minho’s clothes, wanting to just touch, and he had been made to calm down, to enjoy the way that Minho rang every last ounce of control and pleasure from his body. Enjoy that Minho made him moan and tremble and beg for more.

Suddenly, it felt _real_.

“We could do more of that too,” Newt mumbled and flicked his tongue along his bottom lip absently.

“It’s a much better use of our mouths,” Minho reminded him.

Newt hummed his agreement and his grip flexed in the collar of the shirt. “Kiss me again,” he ordered.

Minho obliged.

 

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment either here or on my [tumblr](http://gladers.co.vu/) :)


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